


From Dust

by Luxicorde



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Erastus Willow (OC), Found Family, Lucy of the Green (OC), Miqo'te (Final Fantasy XIV), Original Character(s), Tags Added As I Go, Viera (Final Fantasy XIV), more to come - Freeform, sometimes you decide "I'm gonna write the whole story" at 11:00 on a Tuesday night and you do it., well some of it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:01:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21845599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luxicorde/pseuds/Luxicorde
Summary: The "main story" for Erastus Willow, the unlikely Warrior of Light.
Kudos: 3





	1. Carteneau

**Author's Note:**

> Man I cannot believe how my writing on here went from shameless porn, me screaming about how much I want just nice loving romance, to this. Enjoy.

It never failed to horrify her, how war could rip the land apart. But in all her years, nothing had ever reached this scale.

Lucy had survived the age of frost, had seen Nym rise and fall and all the horrors brought by unchecked black and white magics, had seen the start of the Dragonsong War and eventually the rise of the Garlean Empire, but nothing compared to seeing Dalamud fall from the sky and Bahamut rise from the shell.

Nothing compared to seeing a smaller, yet all the same _deadly_ primal fight for the Garleans, seemingly controlled by them as it ripped through the alliance. Seeing it dash good people across the ground as if they were no more than dolls.

And when the dust settled and the fires of war petered out, nothing compared to the sheer scale of devastation. 

No horror before compared to seeing a child, one that couldn’t have been more than fifteen or so summers, face down in the dirt, wearing a mask that betrayed them as the primal from before.

Lucy had survived every war she had the displeasure of serving in. She survived Mhach loosing hordes of voidsent against Amdapor, survived the plague unleashed on Nym, survived the flood when the white mages refused to listen to reason, survived when the dragons no longer could tell friend from foe in Coerthas, and survived when Solus decided the world belonged to him and him alone. But in all of it, never had she seen children thrown onto the field. The Mhachi had their demons, the Amdapori only ever used the forest to fight on the field, and the Nymians wouldn’t allow such a disgrace. 

Even at the start of this new hell of an era, she had never heard of Solus sending _children_ to fight, if only because they were weak and fragile things unfit for war.

But now? Now someone had worked out how to make gods of the poor things, and this was the result.

Lucy knelt down, turning the child over. With the mask pulled off, it was easy to see he was a miqo’te, ears still too big for his head and the spots by his eyes just starting to come in. His ‘uniform’ - if she could even call it that - was burnt down to almost nothing, only the strong inner layer keeping him covered. What wasn’t covered by that was covered in a thick layer of soot, though whether from his nap in the dirt or weathering the elder primal’s wrath she couldn’t say. 

What she could tell was that he needed help. He yet lived, but the rise and fall of his chest was little more than a faint twitching in her arms as she picked him up. Her ears - and thank the twelve she wasn’t so old her hearing would start to wane - picked up the faint rasping, and under the soot she could see the caked-on blood at the corner of his mouth. 

She was happy he was alive, despite the destruction and carnage, if only because if he had died, she wouldn’t know who to be more furious with: the Garleans for being so heartless as to send him to this wasteland, or the Alliance for deciding a child must die for the likely crime of being forced here.

Her fairy fluttered by her shoulder, peeking over to see the boy in her arms. The wind picked up as she got to work, weaving a bit of magic to help stitch together anything internal while Lucy carried him away from this place. For a brief moment, the smoke cleared, letting the grey of dawn peek through and granting them a breath of fresh air before the clearing moved on. The boy’s breathing grew a bit stronger, no doubt from the breath of cleaner air, but it was still strained and raspy. Her fairy seemed perturbed as they walked on, flitting back and forth from the boy to others on the field. Lucy wanted to help them, truly, but Louisiox had asked her to subdue the primal. She never could refuse him, but she had been far too late to do much in the way of subduing. 

And now that she held the child at the source of it in her arms? She wouldn’t let him fall into Alliance hands. She wasn’t as naive to think that the Circle would let him live purely because she asked, but she would do everything she could to keep him alive and breathing, and the Alliance certainly wouldn’t allow her that chance.

“Uhn…”

Lucy looked down, stopping in her tracks as the boy stirred. The battlefield seemed to freeze around them as he opened his eyes, just a sliver, and tried to speak.

“W...where…”

It came out as a rasp, and if she weren’t a Viera she feared she might not have even heard it. She was impressed that he could even do that, given the extent of the damage, but the strangest part was that under her blessing she couldn’t make out the language. Her echo let her understand everything, that was true, but it was just that: an understanding. She had never met someone that magically translated their language into something she could understand, and this boy was no exception. But the word was positively alien, unlike anything she had ever heard before.

Even if he had been hale and whole, she wouldn’t have had the chance to figure out more. Soon after, his eyes closed again. Her fairy buzzed around his head like a fretting mother bird, checking for any extra damage caused by the exertion before deciding he was safe and returning to healing him. 

Lucy gently stepped forward, taking a bit of extra care not to rouse him further. Still, her mind lingered on the question. Surely the Garleans hadn’t sent him out without telling him where he was going. He was meant to serve a purpose on the field, and the way he was dressed told her he was a soldier of sorts. 

She supposed he could just be confused. After all, taking a hit from Bahamut couldn’t be good for the senses. But it still weighed on her as he left the smoke and ash behind.


	2. Waking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minfilia and the Archons begin to deal with their new 'guest.'

“Why do you doubt me now? It isn’t as if you haven’t used me as a lie detector before.”

Lucy glared down at the little man before her. She never much liked Lalafells, shrewd little shits that they tended to be. But Papalymo was the quintessential example of what she hated about them.

Paplymo spoke again, “given his nature-”

“His nature? His _nature_ is that of a child. He’s lost his memories, anything of who he was is missing, primal or no.”

“He could still be a threat-”

“A practically feral miqo’te kit isn’t a _threat_ , Thancred.”

“He scratched me!”

“Do you consider every cat that has the displeasure of crossing paths with you a threat too?”

“Enough!”

Minfilia folded her arms over her chest, doing her best to glare from across her desk but not achieving more than a bit of quiet. Lucy pitied the poor girl. First Warburton, now F’lhaminn, and now this mess with the boy.

Lyse, or ‘Yda’ as she insisted now, had found out the boy’s name at least. ‘Erastus,’ as it was printed on the little silver tags she found in his pockets. Certainly not a name for a Seeker, and Lucy’s blood boiled as she worked over who would name this child ‘beloved’ only to send him to war.

Minfilia sighed, looking far older than she was with the way stress wrinkled her brow. “Lucy has never lied to us, and I have no reason not to believe her. But this is not as simple as finding an orphan.”

She turned to Y’shtola, and Lucy could see the faintest glimmer of hope. Could feel it, too. Could feel Minfilia hoping that maybe, just maybe it wasn’t true.

“Papalymo has the right of it. This-”

“Erastus.”

Lucy respected Y’shtola the most behind Louisoix, but she’d be damned if she let these people toy with the idea of treating him as some faceless monster.

“-Erastus, if you insist, is the primal seen fighting alongside the Garleans. The aether signature Lucy recorded at Cartenau matches his exactly.”

The color slowly drained from Minfilia’s face. Lucy could feel the grim smugness coming from Thancred and Papalymo, but even that soon faded as the reality of their situation settled.

“It goes against all we know about the primals. However.”

Lucy looked back to her, as did the others. 

“His current aether signature is the same, but it is markedly weaker. If I had to guess, I would say it is hardly stronger than what would be considered ‘normal’ for a person’s soul.”

The room grew still, the air going stale as they all worked the information over. The silence was only interrupted by the first hints of rain against the walls of the Waking Sands, and Papalymo clearing his throat.

“Does that not just mean he is tempered? The same has happened to thralls, too much aether and their signature changes completely.”

“I checked for that.”

She could feel their eyes boring into her. Technically speaking, she was ordered to leave him be except for confirming that he wasn’t lying.

“He isn’t tempered. I would ask Minfilia to check, but I doubt Thancred would let her-”

Lucy stopped, throwing her hands up at Minfilia’s glare. It was hardly the best she’d seen, but she had to give the girl credit where it was due.

“Therein lies another problem. Urianger was supposed to determine this, but he can find nothing about this primal. Not only that, but when he asked Erastus directly, the boy responded in ancient Allagan.”

“Urianger knows more about languages than most, that should be-”

“It was not a problem. The _problem_ was that Erastus understood him, not only in Eorzean, but every language he could think to use while the boy was awake.”

Minfilia was the first one to put the pieces together. It didn’t take long before Lucy and Papalymo followed, and not long after them before Thancred caught up.

“Urianger believes he has some form of the Echo?”

“Not believes. Knows. Erastus could understand him every time, without fail.”

“That… that makes no sense. If he had the Echo, anyone would be able to understand him, not just Urianger or whoever else can speak Allagan.”

“Not… Not necessarily, Thancred.”

Thancred fell silent as Minfilia spoke up. This was her area of expertise, even if her knowledge of the Echo was hardly complete.

“The echo presents itself differently in everyone. Lucy’s and Antoine’s couldn’t be more different, and while I share some similarities, I cannot tell someone’s emotions like Lucy can.”

She paused, taking the time to mull this new information over. In the years Lucy had known her, she had certainly grown a lot. Still very much a child, but far from the hasty brat she had been when Lucy met her.

“I would like to meet him myself.”

Lucy could feel the scoff on Thancred’s tongue. She imagined it only didn’t come out due to the sheer shock of what Minfilia was suggesting. “You cannot mean to-”

“Thancred, primal or no, as the leader of the Path it is my duty to support and protect those with this gift. If he has truly lost his memory, then he will be no threat.”

“Then at least take someone with you!”

Lucy snickered, looking away as she hid her smile behind a hand. She couldn’t have been the only one who had thought it, they all knew by ‘someone’ Thancred had meant himself. But after what had happened last time he was in the room with Erastus, they all knew that wouldn’t happen.

“I think it would be best if I met with him alone, but I would welcome some extra hands outside of the door, just in case.” 

Lucy caught the quick little smile she flashed him, something small to reassure Thancred even if it wouldn’t put the rogue’s mind at ease. The boy really wasn’t a threat, but going to meet with him was still a reckless move, even Lucy could see that. She knew Thancred could see the same, only in his case, he still very much believed this child was dangerous.

Minfilia turned to leave, but no sooner did she take the first step did Tataru burst through the doors into the solar, panting and holding up a finger as she caught her breath.

“He’s… He’s awake again!”

“Perfect timing!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look a fast update. Don't get used to it.

**Author's Note:**

> Updates will be slow most likely, but I will do my absolute best to actually, y'know, do that.


End file.
